


chess pool

by michaelmell



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Fluff, M/M, it's rlly cliche, this is val's fault, uhh theyre basically playing chess, weed gets involved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-23
Updated: 2017-11-23
Packaged: 2019-02-05 22:58:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12804213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/michaelmell/pseuds/michaelmell
Summary: While Michael and Jeremy are having one of their traditional video game tournaments, the power goes out. They resort to getting stoned playing the most boring game of all time.





	chess pool

"Shit!"

The lights go out, and Jeremy and Michael's attention is suddenly drawn to whatever is happening downstairs. Due to Jeremy's dad's profanity, the two can confirm that the power isn't only out in Jeremy's room. It's an actual blackout. 

It has been raining all day in New Jersey, and the unforgivable storm has finally brought its unmerciful wrath upon the house's power. So much for another video game night. 

"When do you think it'll be back?" Michael asks, eyeing the controller in his hands. His thumb circles around the joystick in sorrow, and he considers that maybe if he _believes_ the power will come back on it _will_ come back on.

"I mean, not tonight," Jeremy answers honestly, turning his head towards the window. He can occasionally hear thunder from somewhere outside. The room, which had been filled with spirit prior to the blackout, was now eerie and depressing. Taking note of this, Jeremy rises from the beanbag and walks towards his closet. "I'm gonna grab a flashlight."

Michael, who is still distracted by the lifeless controller, eventually decides it's a lost cause. He ponders for a moment and tries to decide on something the two could do that doesn't involve power. He sets the controller on the nightstand and joins Jeremy in the closet to help him search. Jeremy rustles through random objects until finally finding something useful. "Got it," he says, flipping the switch. He's pleased with himself. He notices Michael still rummaging through the heap of clothes and old childhood toys. "Michael, I already found it," Jeremy squints.

"I know," Michael continues his hunt. "I'm looking for something to entertain us."

"You're making a mess!" Jeremy grunts, watching his untidy closet become even more untidy.

"It was already a mess! Come on, Jer, there's gotta be something cool in here!"

"Dude, I'm telling you, all that's in there is clothes and childhood toys. You're not gonna find, like, a random fusebox or something."

Michael sighs in defeat, removing himself from the closet. He gathers himself to his feet and gestures towards Jeremy.

"Gimme the flashlight," he demands. Jeremy hands it over without a word. If he knows anything about Michael, it's that once he's started he will not stop. Michael shines the flashlight into the gloomy closet, pointing it from side to side and trying to find something that his glasses had missed. Nothing. Just when he thinks their night is ruined, Michael shines the flashlight up. Bingo. "What's up there?" Michael asks, handing the flashlight back to Jeremy. He reaches towards the shelf and starts to grab at random shapes. He first uncovers a gameboy.

"Doesn't have a backlight," Jeremy explains, showing Michael the screen. 

"God, you're _still_ more retro than me." Michael sighs, sliding the useless gameboy back onto the shelf.

"Hey! Sure, you can't see shit, but that's what's so cool about them! Imagine being a kid in the 90s and trying to play on those in the dark. Must have been absolutely crushing."

"I mean, it's 'absolutely crushing' right now, nearly 20 years later." Michael nods in agreement, a smile creeping on his lips.

While Jeremy is rambling about how he wishes he had been born in the late 80s, Michael starts pulling on a cardboard box. When friction decides to let it go, Michael's dramatically placing it on the patch of carpet in front of Jeremy.

"Chess?" Jeremy looks skeptical. "Your grand idea on how to fix tonight is... Chess?"

"Got any better ideas? Unless you wanna play Blind Pokemon Yellow on your lameboy."

"'Lameboy?' Really?"

"Listen, I didn't wanna say 'lame gameboy', because that would've just sounded plain stupid."

Jeremy can't argue with that. Curse you, rhymes, and how unsatisfying you sound in casual conversation. 

"I don't know how to play chess." Jeremy objects. It isn't a lie; why the hell would he know how to play chess? Who would he have to play it with in the first place other than Michael? Why does he even have a chess set?

"I'll teach you!" Michael concludes. Jeremy still doesn't agree, but as stated before, once Michael's started he won't stop. 

"You're just gonna beat me." Jeremy whines, pulling his beanbag next to the board. 

"Exactly. That's what makes it fun." Michael shrugs, laying on his stomach. "Okay, now listen--"

It doesn't take very long to learn that Jeremy is completely unteachable. 

It feels like hours they're sitting there, Michael's hand on top of Jeremy's, trying to help him memorize which pieces can move a certain way and which pieces cannot. 

"I get it! So... The castle guys can only move in the shape of an L. I can just move him over here and..." Jeremy knocks over one of Michael's pawns before stealing it in his fist.

"No," Michael reaches for the pawn back. "That's a rook, it moves either horizontally or vertically. The knight--" He remembers that Jeremy can't remember the difference between bishops and knights. "--the horse guy moves in the L."

"Oh." Jeremy shamefully returns one of the pieces back to its original position.

"Hey! Cheer up. You're..." Michael doesn't know where he's going with that thought. Jeremy is staring at him with what little hope he has left. "Yeah, this is totally uncool." Hope crushed.

"Whatever, maybe we should just go to bed--"

"No! Wait, I have another idea," Michael reaches for his backpack.

"God, Michael, no more ideas!" Jeremy begs, pushing the chess board aside. "Seriously, we're both bummed. Maybe we should just sleep."

Michael pulls a small plastic bag out of his backpack. 

"Huh? Huh?" Michael beams, but receives a look of pure disapproval from Jeremy. "Oh come on. It'd make things a lot more interesting."

"Yeah, but at _my_ house? No way." Jeremy shuts that idea down as quickly as he can. "Why do you even keep weed in your backpack? Don't they, like, check lockers? Or something?"

"Apparently not, because, well, here it is."

Jeremy is amazed by Michael's brain power.

"Michael... What if my dad finds that shit or something--"

"You down or not?" Michael shakes the bag, offering a smile. 

Jeremy isn't actually tired. And an idea's an idea.

***

"Do you understand now?" A slightly more relaxed Michael asks.

"Yeah, of course, yeah." Jeremy nods with a bit of hesitation. When he's able to focus on Michael's appearance, he notices his eyes are tinted red and his hair is messier than usual.

"You don't sound so sure." Michael sloppily waves one of his pawns in a circular motion above the board, seeming unimpressed with Jeremy's gameplay. If you can even call chess "gameplay". 

"Well, I'm not," He still doesn't understand how pot is supposed to fix the situation. The only change he physically feels is his weight; he's lighter than usual. "I don't think I'm ever gonna figure this out."

"Well, aren't you just a chess pool of negativity." Michael squints and returns his pawn to where it was originally on the board. 

"Cesspool,"

"Come again?"

"The word is 'cesspool', not 'chess pool'. You mean cesspool?"

Michael just stares at him in confusion.

"No." He shakes his head. "...But nevermind that! I think you're ready. Let's just play."

Jeremy begins by moving one of his knights.

"Uh.... Is that H3? Yeah. Uh, mustang to H3."

"Did you just call it a mustang?" Michael can't help but giggle in disbelief. He shakes his head quickly. "That's clearly a clydesdale." 

"Whatever! The... Horse, move to H--...just move there," He drags the knight to the square.

Neither of them are paying close attention. The littlest things would cause them distractions in the form of giggling and teasing. Mostly small "you suck"s and criticism whenever the other made a bad move. Bickering lead to new inside jokes and memories. They had successfully turned the night around with a simple game of stoned chess. 

"You're doing good!" Michael beams, pushing a bishop across the board. He unknowingly creates a wide open space big enough for Jeremy to drive a rook through. Jeremy finally realizes this and makes his move.

"I think I won," He says, grabbing Michael's king with glee. Michael squints at him, then at the board, then back to Jeremy. 

"How?"

Jeremy demonstrates the move he had just made seconds before, and Michael's jaw drops. "No, you haven't won yet." He shakes his head quickly.

"What?" Jeremy frowns in disbelief, "I thought the goal was to capture the king! I did that." A mixture of outrage and pot causes him to slur and slow down his speech. 

"You didn't say checkmate," He explains. "...you're supposed to say 'checkmate' when you've won. To like... Show you've won, or something."

"Oh." Jeremy twirls Michael's king in between his fingertips. "Well, uh, checkmate...?"

"Rad!" Michael exclaims, lightly kicking against the carpet. "Dude, you won! I told you you'd figure it out eventually."

"I did, didn't I?" Jeremy answers in surprise. He eyes the game piece again.

"You did!" Michael laughs. Jeremy laughs in return. They lay there on the carpet for a while, laughing, discussing all the events that lead up to Jeremy's victory. It feels like hours they're there together. Eventually, they stop talking about chess; they talk about the things that really matter to them.

"Michael?"

"Mhm?"

"I don't think two guys who get baked while playing chess will be cool in college either." Jeremy stares up at the ceiling. He isn't sad about it, though. Not as sad as he used to be. In fact, he's happy. Only Michael could break Jeremy's want for popularity.

"You think I meant that? I said that to make you feel better." Michael admits. "I don't think popularity even matters in college. Unless you wanna go to frat parties. And... I don't really think you're the kinda guy who'd be interested in that anyways."

"Yeah. I figured."

Silence. Michael is trying to decide whether or not he enjoys it. He turns, now facing Jeremy instead of the doorframe. 

"Jer?" 

"Yeah?"

"Checkmate," 

Jeremy's confused once again.

"I thought you only said checkmate once you've won something?"

Michael considers this a moment. He knows what he's won. The question is, how _much_ has he won? 

He decides to go for it. He pushes the chess board aside, leaving space between the two. He takes it slowly, invading more and more space until they're _practically_ touching, and then they _are_ touching, and Michael doesn't know if it's the marijuana or a mutual feeling that's making Jeremy kiss back. The world is peaceful. The only movement around them that they can feel is the presence of one another. They've been waiting too long for this. 

And when they pull away, Jeremy understands. Jeremy understands the rules.

**Author's Note:**

> this was based on a typo. basically my friend typed "chess pool" instead of "cesspool" and we're never gonna let her live it down.
> 
> also this is my first fic and i completely forgot i had the username "michaelmell"  
> i had to put it to use eventually kaslfdjldkas
> 
> im @thesquipsong on twitter come say hi!


End file.
